The Last One
by Vivere Sine Timore
Summary: He tightened his hold on her. It was all he could do now. Hold onto the only person he had. The only person he had left in this world. The only one left he loved.


_I know, this idea's overdone, but I thought of this and I just had to write it. (And I promise that I'm working on The Unbreakable Bond.)_

* * *

Mal propped his head up on his hands as he listened to Mrs. Cook drone on and on about sine and cosine waves, or something along those lines. Blinking slowly, he felt his attention slipping away and made no attempt to fix it. His eyes eventually drifted closed and as his consciousness slipped, so did his hands. His head jerked upright again and after a quick glance around the classroom, Mal determined that no one had caught him dozing off.

A note bearing his name dropped onto his desk from behind him. He discretely opened it and read it. _How's your mom doing? _There was no name signed at the bottom, and he scowled. It seemed like the entire school knew what was going on in his home life now. He'd deliberately tried not to let anyone beyond his small circle of friends what was going on, and the outsiders seemed to view that as an invitation to stick their noses in places that they weren't welcome. _She's fine _he scribbled back, then placed in on the desk behind him, trusting that it would get to the right person. it was his go-to answer for everyone these days, including Joel and Heather, who had been his best friends since before he could remember.

Truth was, he wasn't even sure how his mother was doing. He hated sitting around in a hospital, waiting for her to die. He always gave Cynthia the excuse of homework or that he had to study for exams. In fact, he hadn't seen his mother for almost a month. He knew she asked for him on a daily basis, but he just couldn't bring himself to go and see her.

The bell finally rang, and he began packing his things away into his backpack. He made a beeline for the cafeteria, hoping to find Heather in the lunch line before it got too long. Since he was a senior, not to many people said anything when he cut in line. He placed his hands over her eyes and laughed inwardly when she stiffened.

"Mal, I know it's you," she said in an annoyed tone. He grinned as she turned and punched him in the chest. She may have been a girl, but she could hit pretty well. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Mal said as he grabbed a tray and began walking over to the deli side of the cafeteria. "You?"

"Same as usual," Heather replied with a sigh. "How are you and your sister holding up?"

Mal grimaced. "We're fine." He knew she could tell he was lying, but she didn't say anything about it. "I was thinking of visiting my mom after school." Heather brightened up immediately.

"That sounds good," she encouraged. "I'm sure your mom will be happy to see you." Mal nodded, but grimaced again.

He was unhappy, not that he let it show. After his mom was diagnosed, Cynthia had moved back in with them to help take care of both their mom and Mal. She had continued college through night courses and worked a day job at a small boutique. Even Mal had gotten a job at the grocery store to help pay the bills. But despite their efforts minimum wage wasn't cutting it, and their family was slowly drowning in bills. They'd already had to sell Mal's car in order to pay the hospital bills.

The rest of the day seemed to drag by and, more than once, Mal caught himself drifting off again. Finally, the last bell rang, and Mal trudged to his locker. Heather met him there and offered him a ride home; he accepted, but decided to procrastinate as long as possible. He took his time putting unneeded books and notebooks into his locker and packing away the books that he did need. He trudged all the way to Heather's car, and fiddled with his seatbelt more than was really necessary.

He wanted to see his mom, he really did. He wanted to be there for her and to tell her everything that was happening and pretend like everything was normal. But he couldn't do it for some reason, especially not with all those machines beeping around her.

Heather stared at Mal as he sat in the passenger seat. She had pulled up to his house a few minutes ago, but he so far refused to get out. He sighed, seemed as if he was moving to open the door, and then he sat back again. Heather rolled her eyes, but placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to go today, you know," she said softly. "You could always go another day. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Mal shrugged.

"I just feel like I should go today, you know?" He turned his head to face her. "I've put it off long enough. My mom needs me, and I need her." Heather nodded and looked at her hands.

"Well, either way, you know I'm always here to help. If you ever need money, somewhere to stay... a shoulder to lean on... Just know that I'll always be here for you." Mal nodded, grimaced, and opened the door.

"Thanks," he mumbled, walking to the front door. Heather took a deep calming breath, attempted to push her feelings aside, and pulled out of the drive way.

Mal had barely gotten up the stairs to the porch then the front door flew open and he was practically tackled by his sister. He hesitated before hugging her back, and then realized that she was talking.

"...and I had just left for a few minutes, to take a phone call, and when I came back... Oh, Mal..." A sinking feeling gnawed at his stomach as Mal untangled himself from his sister. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was running but she made no attempt to clean it.

"What?" he asked dumbly. Surely she couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying.

"Mom is... mom's... she's... Oh, God, Mal." As cynthia threw her arms around him once more comprehension dawned on him, and suddenly his knees felt weak. He stood there, his mind reeling, legs shaking. There was a roaring in his ears as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had just been told.

His mother was dead.

Cynthia slowly fell to her knees, and Mal went with her.

She was dead. He would never see her again. Had he even told her that he loved her the last time?

He felt detached from his body, but felt his arms wrap around his sister's body. It was all he could do to hold onto her as she cried. He wanted to cry, he wanted to feel their familiar sting as they pooled in his eyes, but the only thing he felt was his sister's body trembling against his own.

He tightened his hold on her. It was all he could do now. Hold onto the only person he had. The only person he had left in this world.

The only one left he loved.


End file.
